––––––––

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?” I hesitate at the entrance of the tour bus, looking up to where Hudson stops in the middle of the stairs and turns toward me.

“Technically this is my tour bus. Yes, it’s okay that you’re here.” He holds his hand out to me.

“Right,” I say, more nervous than I should be as I take his hand and allow him to pull me on board.

I hear at least three different male voices talking before we make it to the landing, followed by a rumble of laughter as one yells playfully at the other just as we step onto the bus.

“I was wondering where the hell your ass disappeared to,” one of the men says, stopping when he sees me half hiding behind Hudson’s large frame.

“I told Zeke I was getting a room. I take it he didn’t tell you?” Hudson asks, slightly annoyed.

“That’s what you get for telling Zeke.” The man laughs, our eyes meeting as Hudson pulls me up beside him.

At first glance I would guess the man is maybe in his early forties. With dirty blonde hair and a goatee in serious need of a trim, he’s not what I would classify as good looking but I wouldn’t say he’s not good looking either, if that makes sense.

“I guess that’s true.” Hudson shakes his head.

“Hello, I’m sitting right here,” says the man sitting across the small table from the other, a deck of cards sitting between them.

This man looks to be about Hudson’s age. With a completely bald head and tattoos on every surface of skin I can see other than his face, he reminds me more of a rocker than someone who would travel with a country artist.

“Don’t worry, we all know you’re shit at remembering to do anything,” another man chimes in from the small built in couch along the back wall.

My eyes move to him, noticing that he’s much younger than the others and reminds me of Colton from the first night we met. He’s wearing faded jeans, a red flannel – despite the fact that it’s the hottest month of the summer in Texas, and his hair is pulled back in a thick man bun. He’s cute enough but way too young for me to really take notice. If I had to guess I’d say he’s probably not even old enough to drink yet.

“Fuck you, kid,” the bald man throws his way before Hudson clears his throat, demanding the room. “Guys, this is Lennon. Lennon, this is my touring band.” He sweeps his arm to gesture to the room.

“Hey, Lennon,” they all kind of say in unison.

I do a small wave to no one in particular, feeling every set of eyes in the room on me.

“This is Hank. He plays bass.”

I swallow my nerves and nod a hello to the man with the goatee, not attempting to move out of Hudson’s protective hold.

“This here is Zeke.” He gestures to the bald guy sitting across from Hank. “Best drummer I’ve ever had the pleasure of playing with. Shit at relaying messages,” Hudson jokes causing Zeke to smile.

“Sup, girl.” He gives me a chin lift.

“And back there is Oliver. He plays guitar.” He gestures to the younger guy with the bun.

“Hi, guys,” I squeak out without sounding as nervous as I feel.

It’s weird. I’ve always been a very outgoing, confident person but when it comes to meeting the people in Hudson’s life, I clam up in a way that is so not like me. I think it’s the pressure I put on myself. I’m so desperate for everyone to like me that I’m forgetting to be myself.

“Well hello to you, Lennon,” Zeke says, turning his gaze to Hudson. “You said she was pretty, but you didn’t tell us she was this pretty.”

I relax at his comment.

“I like him,” I offer, a smile playing on my lips.

“Somehow I knew you would.” Hudson chuckles, tightening his arm around my shoulders as he turns his attention back to the guys. “Why are you guys hanging out here? You have the day off. Don’t you spend enough time on this bus?”

“We’re gonna head out in a bit. Just waiting on some of Travis’ guys,” Hank answers.

“Okay, well I’m gonna show Lennon around the bus. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“Sounds good.” Hank nods, collecting the cards between him and Zeke as he prepares to deal out another game.

Hudson bumps fists with Oliver as we pass, heading into a long hallway that houses bunk beds on each side. I follow him to the very back of the bus that opens to a small bedroom, dipping inside when he holds the door open for me.

“Is this your room?” I ask, looking around the small but very nice space.

“This is my home away from home.” He drops down onto the bed before patting the space beside him.

“This is not at all what I pictured,” I admit, taking in the dark tinted windows on either side of the room and the small private bathroom tucked in the corner.

“No?” he questions when I slide down next to him, tucking one leg under myself so that I’m facing him.

“The bunks out there is more of what I envisioned but everything else.” I shake my head. “It’s like a small house in here. You’ve got a living room and kitchen combo.” I gesture to the vicinity of where the guys are. “Guest rooms.” I point toward the door where the bunks are located. “And you even have your own private master.” I run my hand along the deep red comforter beneath me.

“You think this is something, you should see Travis’ bus. If mine’s a house then his is a mansion.” He laughs, looking around the space.

“Perhaps I’ll go ask if I can see it,” I tease, not missing the way Hudson’s jaw twitches when I do.

“Careful,” he warns, squeezing my thigh.

“You know I’m only kidding. There’s only one tour bus I want to see and this is it.” I smile, pushing up on my knees before crawling into Hudson’s lap, my legs wrapping around his back and my arms going around the back of his neck.

“Yeah, you better say that,” he murmurs, running his lips across my jaw.

“If you had told me when we met that I’d be here with you now, on your tour bus, I never would have believed it.”

“Funny how life works.” Hudson runs his nose up the side of my neck, inhaling me. “God you smell good.” He groans, thrusting his hips upward slightly so I can feel him hard beneath me.

“I probably smell like you,” I counter, pushing down to grind myself on him.

“Why would you smell like me?” He smiles, pulling back to look up at me.

“Because you haven’t stopped rubbing yourself all over me since last night,” I inform him, scratching my nails along his scruff.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Quite the opposite actually.” I shift my hips, pressing into him again. “I’m thinking I’d like you to be rubbing on me right now,” I purr, sliding my hands into the back of his hair as my mouth settles over his.

“You want to christen my tour bus, do you?” He groans when I slide my tongue into his mouth.

“That depends...” I pause, my face hovering so close to his that all I can see are his dark eyes.

“You would be the first,” he cuts in like he knows exactly where my mind is going. “The first and the only.” He shifts, lifting us both up as he turns and deposits me on the bed beneath him.

“Well in that case.” I lift my arms so he can peel my shirt off. “Christen away, Mr. Demasi.”

—-

“So will you have the same bus the next time you go on tour?” I ask, my body curled into Hudson’s under the blankets.

“Doubtful. Usually the label leases the buses. I think it depends on what’s available. Obviously their higher end stock is reserved for the bigger artists.”

“Which you are quickly becoming,” I interject.

“Maybe.” He shrugs like he’s unsure, which is completely out of character for him. “I don’t know. Some days I think I’m just waiting for the rug to get ripped out from underneath me.”

I sit up, doing a ninety degree turn so that I’m facing where he’s lying, propped up on pillows with his hands tucked underneath his head. “What do you mean?” I question, criss-crossing my legs in front of myself as I tug the blanket up to my chin.

“It just seems too good to be true.” He shrugs. “Everything is going too right.”

“There’s such a thing as too right?” I ask, reaching out to trail my hand along the swirls of the tattoo on his forearm.

“I think so.” He looks down to where my fingers are drifting gently over his ink.

“Explain,” I coax.

“It’s hard to explain.” He lets out a slow sigh, his gaze going to the ceiling. “I just feel like one day everyone is going to wake up and realize I’m not who they think I am. That my music isn’t good enough. That I’m not good enough.”

“Are you serious right now?” I snip almost angrily. “You have no idea how talented you are, do you? My god, Hudson, you are pure magic on that stage. If you could see what I see when I watch you, I promise you would never, ever wonder if you’re good enough.”

“I wasn’t just talking about music, Lennon,” he pauses, his gaze drifting back to me.

“You think you’re not good enough for me?” I ask like the question couldn’t be more absurd.

“I worry that maybe I’m not. That I’m fooling myself into believing I can be what you need.”

“You don’t have to fool yourself into anything. You are what I need.”

“Right now maybe,” he grumbles, sitting up before throwing his legs over the bed. He’s pulling on his jeans before my feet have even hit the floor.

“Hey.” I pull the blanket off the bed and wrap it around my shoulders before stepping in front of him. “What’s with you?” I ask, having never seen this side of Hudson.

“You scare the fuck out of me, Lennon Claire.” His gaze softens as his hand slides into my hair.

“And you think you don’t scare me?” I ask. Leaning into his touch, I close my eyes for a brief moment.

“I’m in love with you,” he blurts and my entire body freezes.

I’m not sure how long it takes for my wide gaze to find his, but when it does I feel like my heart is seconds away from crashing out from behind my rib cage.

“Did you hear me?” he asks when moments pass and I haven’t been able to form one single word.

“I heard you,” I manage, not able to contain the smile the spreads across my face. “Now say it again.”

Relief floods his expression as he leans forward, his lips a breath away from mine.

“I’m. In. Love. With. You.”

“You have no idea, do you?” I question, shaking my head, my smile still firmly intact.

“What don’t I have any idea about?” he questions, his eyebrows knitting together.

“How crazy I am about you,” I say, taking his face in my hands. “Or how incredibly happy you just made me.” Emotion swells in my throat and I choke it back. “I’m in love with you too.”

I press up on the balls of my feet and kiss him, not even flinching when the blanket slips from my body and Hudson’s warm arms close around my back.

“I’m in this with you,” I reassure him, wrapping my legs around his waist when he lifts me into his arms. “And I’m not going anywhere. As long as you want me, I’m yours.”

“I’m never going to stop wanting you,” he murmurs against my neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh just below my ear.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I warn as Hudson dips and presses me back onto the mattress.

“I’m never going to stop wanting you,” he reiterates as he shimmies out of his jeans and settles in between my thighs.

He pauses at my entrance, looking down at me with so much adoration on his face it nearly steals the air from my lungs.

“I love you,” he whispers, slowly sliding inside of me.

“I love you,” I whisper back, wrapping my legs around his back and arching my hips upward as he starts to move, showing me with his body what his words have already expressed.

I know he meant what he said. I feel it in the way he touches me. See it in the way he looks at me. Hear it in the way that he says my name over and over again as our bodies slide against one another.

This man loves me.

I love him.

I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever felt so happy. So full that I could burst into a million pieces. But with that happiness the fear creeps in.

The more you love someone the more power they have to hurt you. For my sake I hope it never comes to that. Because losing Hudson wouldn’t just hurt me. It would completely destroy me.